Mitt Romney's Fantastic Adventure
by aTouchOfEpic
Summary: If you're not planning on voting... This is for you! Made for an English project. She gave me a god damn 85.


So Mitt Romney was in the White House, contemplating his yearn for money, when all of a sudden, Politician 1 burst into the room. "Sir!" He said. "We've just found it!"

Upon hearing these words, Romney started giggling and spinning in his office chair. He abruptly stopped, and a stern look washed over his face. "When can we get it?" He said. Politician 1 furrowed his brow and said, "That's the thing. We have almost no funds left to make such a journey… We keep printing more, but NOTHING HAPPENS!"

Romney let out an overbearing laugh that made Politician 1 a bit uncomfortable. "Son," Romney began. "Here's five dollars. Go get yourself some ice because you're fired." "Golly gee, Mr. Almost President!" He blissfully stated. He then left and invested those five dollars in a failing business, and is now in debt for 30 grand.

Before any of that happened, Romney gathered all of his lust for money, and contorted it into a fireball of pure passion which he directed towards his feet. He used it to jump and blast himself through the white house roof into the earth's mesosphere. As he gradually fell, he again contemplated his love for money with a smile, and then directed himself towards his heart's destination; The forest of Democratia.

Deep within the forest, a silhouette carefully observed the anomaly falling towards the forest at a republican's speed. "It is time." The figure stated, and at once started thinking to itself about Health Care plans.

Romney Collided with the Earth with a policy breaking crash. Although completely unscathed himself, the forest around him had been nearly obliterated from the impact. He looked around at the wreckage, and apathetically walked away. "I'm not Al Gore," He thought. "Why should I care?!"

No sooner than he thought these thoughtful thoughts, he had walked past a tree that had the mark of Al Gore himself. The mark was basically a visual embodiment of Al Gore's soul, and its link to the forest and the importance of its preservation. Gathering more of his undeterred passion for money, he smashed the tree in half. "Screw the forest!" He yelled! "Mother nature can take a rain check!" Content with this awful one-liner, he narcissistically winced in his own pleasure. As he did so, the discernful expression of Al Gore's head formed out of the smashed tree. He stared lividly at Romney with the anger of a thousand raging waterfalls. The rest of his body formed from the tree as seconds passed.

Romney's satisfaction with his one-liner quickly dissolved, and he turned around only to find Al Gore standing before him, stroking a squirrel. "Take leave, my pet." He whispered to the vermin, "For I must vanquish this infidel from the confines of my holy land of wood."

Romney, who was apathetic to the enemy in front of him, pulled a large, tax-paid cigar out of his sports coat pocket, and lit it. Al Gore, grimaced, lunged forward toward at Romney with a punch. Romney dodged the punch with the speed of a thousand republicans, and shoved Gore away. Looking content with himself, Romney then dropped his cigar on the leafy forest floor, and then smoldered it with his tax-paid black suede shoes.

Gore, angrily astonished at the vandalism to his forest, let out a petrifying roar that would strip the bark off of trees as his eyes set ablaze. Romney was still apathetic. Gore lunged toward Romney in a blinding rage. Confident in his approach, Gore exponentially increased his speed toward him. Gore was now a fiery ball of pure conservationism.

However Romney had stopped him in his tracks. More than that, actually. Gore had found Romney's arm completely lodged through his sternum. Romney, now clutching his spine, he called upon more of his passion for money, and split Gore completely in half. Gore had fell to the ground with a sickening thump without a word.

It was now dusk. It had been a long while since his battle with Gore, and Romney had continued along his journey. However, he had managed to cross into a marsh, and this had slowed his pacing. "Well, like I always say." Romney said. "If you can't-"

Romney was interrupted by a large disturbing emerging form that erupted from the water. Immediately following it, 7 others had joined the Emmy-winning form. As the murk had dissipated, the forms had revealed to be the robed and extremely misinformed Tom Cruise and his brigade of scientologist cult followers.

"Romney, brother of Elron; why have you disturbed my sacred marshlands?" Cruise had said. "Do you not know that we birth our followers in these marshes? Look at your feet, you're stepping in babies." Romney had looked down toward his feet and noticed the abundance of babies in the form of Tom Cruise. They were clearly not as majestically handsome, but they would be soon enough despite being stepped on.

Romney had pointed at Cruise with a resolute pose full of overconfidence. "Die monster, you don't belong in this world; Mankind ill needs a religion such as yours!" Romney shouted.

What is a man?!" Cruise retaliated. "A miserable little pile of secrets! But enough talk, have at you!" A violent wind had ensued, and caused Tom Cruise's Robes to excessively flap. His followers started humming a low tone chant, as Cruise started rising in the air.

"NOW YOU SHALL FEEL THE POWER OF SCIENCE; OF THE ONLY REAL TRUTH IN THIS WORLD!" Cruise had yelled. His eyes were glowing vibrant yellow, and another had appeared on his forehead. His fingertips had ignited and the power of science was emanating from him.

Romney, who was still smiling even after all the events that had just occurred, simply jumped up ten feet in the air toward Tom, and impaled him through his chest with his fist. Tom Cruise was flabbergasted at the sight of Romney's fist bulging out of his back. He stood there for a moment, expressionless on the outside, but horrified on the inside.

Would his long time campaign for world domination by Scientology really come to such an anticlimactic end? All those babies that had been mass produced and the horrible consequences that followed them really all be for naught? He had spent years stepping on his subordinates, just to get to this point. All of his work had now been destroyed by this prudish, dastardly handsome presidential candidate. What a cruel world…

Tom closed his eyes, removed the fist from his sternum, and gracefully fell to the ground. As he fell, the cultists surrounding him were all at their knees, sobbing loudly at the horrible plight to fall upon their leader. This went on for several minutes until one of the cultists composed himself and then began the customary Scientology death song of the Macarena. The rest of the cultists followed in his footsteps and still sobbing, performed the Macarena as well.

However, they were interrupted by Romney, who had shouted "Now after witnessing all of this, I hope you'll know who to give your vote and money to!" The cultists had then begun stoning Romney while he was walking from the scene to his next destination.

Hours passed by. Romney was starting to get antsy. "Time is money" as they said, and Romney hated to lose money. Ah, how he loved money. The look of it, the smell of it, the texture, he loved all of it. Every single attribute of money that you can perform a scientific observation about, no matter how absurd, he loved it. Some might say he had an unhealthy compulsion, and had no idea what the actual value of an American dollar actually was. Most would say they were right. However, Romney did not care what people thought of him. That's only because Romney can't physically understand the concept of such a thing.

But you already knew all of that, didn't you?

Romney hurriedly walked along the path to the final destination. He walked for what seemed like an eternity. Every second wasted would be another dollar metaphorically wasted. Romney checked his watch. He realized he didn't have a watch, because watches were for squares. Disgusted, he continued walking.

For a while, he wondered if he was lost. This thought was immediately shot down by the thought, "Lost?! I'm Mormon! Mormons can't get lost!" Confident in his reasoning, he changed his walk into a fancy, suave strut that screamed pseudo-intelligence.

He had been so involved in his amazing strut so that he failed to notice the colossal structure that stood before him which he promptly strut into and made a republican-shaped imprint into the wall. Romney, who was now stuck in the wall, decided rather than to try and do sensible thing and remove himself, kept forcibly moving through the wall in an attempt to get through to the other side.

After several more hours of doing so, Romney finally emerged onto the other side of the castle wall. Oh did I mention that? Yeah, it's a castle. Anyhow, he emerged to find an intricate obstacle course that was constructed from the bones of his fallen republican allies and the crumpled rough drafts of Health Care plans.

Romney stared ahead at the doom that had befallen his republican comrades, and wept a single Mormon-like weep. The weep fell to the castle floor and as it landed, started burning through the floor like acid. This had intrigued Romney. There were only two substances in the world that were susceptible to Mormon tears; the first being cheap Dell laptops, as those were susceptible to literally everything, and sandstone.

As Romney inspected the ground, he determined that the floor was obviously made of cheap Dell laptops, as that was the sensible thing to do. But what could whoever made this incredible behemoth of a castle gain by constructing the floor from Dell laptops? Romney put away the thought from his mind, as his attention span was dwindling.

Plus, there was another task at hand; getting past the obstacle course of death that had been lain before him. The importance of getting past it was obvious; the one true treasure, often regarded as "it" had to have been hidden within the confines of this castle.

Hesitantly, Romney took on the first obstacle before him. It was a swinging saw blade above a moat of lasers with only a lone platform in the middle that would aid you to the other side. He called upon some of the last of his money passion, used it to propel himself into the air, and then promptly punched the saw blade with incredible power, completely blasting it from its hinges into the castle wall. Still in the air, he used a little more of his passion to compress the oxygen around his feet to form a solid substance which he used to bound off from and triple backflip to the end of the course, completely skipping the all of the perilous deathtraps set before him.

He landed with a graceful "tap" and judges everywhere gave straight 10's, all rejoicing and crying at the sight of such a beautiful land. Although his land was indeed beautiful, Romney had no time to focus on such trivial things, as there were bigger things at hand. He was desperately running out of time, and if he didn't get "it" before time had run out, then Romney would have officially completely run out of money.

He started climbing the incredibly large spiral staircase that was before him. He noticed that the stairs were also made of Dell laptops, but disregarded that fact.

Mitt Romney was nearing his final destination. His long, incredible journey of fantasticness was about to come to an end, and he would surely be swimming in money as soon as he returned with "it". However, the overall aura of the staircase had seemed a bit off. As he ascended the staircase, it became progressively foggier, and he could hear an organ playing "Ganon's theme" becoming louder with each step.

The staircase itself never seemed to end. Romney felt like he had been climbing for a long while, and he started to become worried again about his time constraints. After a while, he finally came to the end of the staircase, which was guarded by a large iron door with large rivets in it.

"Iron is for chumps!" He shouted as he pried the large door from its hinges with his bare hands. He threw the wreckage somewhere and burst into the room before him.

He looked around. Romney was outside. He was in a forest in fact. But how did he get here? Was he not just climbing a staircase just to get here? How did he end up outside in a forest? Hard questions such as these wore Romney out, and he decided it was much easier to think about money.

Behind Romney, a cloaked figure appeared and whispered "Change" before disappearing again from view. Romney quickly turned around, alarmed by such whispers, and stayed alert to the possible threat. As he suspiciously looked around, he could hear constant whispers about change and health care.

"What kind of hippie are you?!" Romney yelled into the forest, feeling somewhat nervous for once in his life.

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for, Mitt Romney. We are the change that we seek." It whispered again.

"Mother of Michigan, just who the heck are you?!" yelled Romney.

"Ah, it's funny you should ask that, Mr. Mitt Romney…" The voice called out. The figure then dropped into Romney's view, and took off its cloak. "You'd think you'd remember your rival candidate."

The figure was Barack Obama, in the flesh. Romney cringed. Romney hated Obama more than anything in the world; More than big words, welfare, and even poor people. To find him standing in the way of his ultimate goal was an insult to Romney's very existence. Romney had to control himself though. An adversary as wily as Obama was to be dealt with extreme caution. He was the Lucifer of the very thing he loved more than anything; Money. Obama had been known for worsening an already awful US economy in a matter of four years, making him the undoubted enemy of money itself.

"I like that fancy raincoat you bought; really sprung for the big bucks." Romney had said referring to Obama's floor-ridden cloak.

"You are not going to get 'it' as long as I have a waking breath in my body. It will remain in my hands, and with it, I shall become president, and I will do everything that I can as long as I am President of the United States to remind the American people that we are one nation under God, and we may call that God different names, but we remain one nation." Obama shouted.

"No, you Kenyan twit! I shall become the President, and with my position, I will go on a global campaign and raise funds to get more MONEY!" Romney yelled. He sprung toward Obama, readied his fist, and aimed for Obama's sternum. He threw the punch, and awaited the sickening crunch that followed the ever-so-famous sternum punch.

However, that crunch did not come. Obama had dodged Romney's punch, and delivered an elbow to the stomach of Mitt Romney. Romney recovered, and threw another punch toward Obama's head. Obama simply dodged that one in a spinning motion and backhanded Romney in the face.

Romney seemed dazed by the blow for a moment. What was he to do? He had spent nearly all of his passion trying just to get to this point. He had almost no hope of beating his arch-nemesis in this state.

Still, Romney threw an uppercut toward Obama's stomach. Obama grabbed his fist entirely, began crushing it, and pulled an agonized Romney toward him.

"The Presidential campaign will be mine, do you understand me? The hearts and souls of millions belong to me!" Obama said. "Have you even heard the saying, "Power to the people"?! Can you even grasp at what that power even entails?!"

It had all made sense now. Romney now knew the secret behind Obama's presidential campaign. He had been sucking the life force of millions of people, and using their lack of life to bend them to his will. He had even gone so far as to take advantage of their lack of energy and used it to mind control of them with the trigger being the word "Change". It was all so simple. No wonder people were supporting his bogus policies and health care plans. They were under mind control. And now, he was using the life force he had sucked to fight Romney.

Romney unlatched himself from Obama's grasp and smirked. "So that's how you did it, you salty dog;" He had said. "Stealing the hearts and souls of millions for your own self gain. I'm actually kinda jealous that I never thought of it. If only you had used it to gain money…"

"Hah," Obama laughed. "I'm surprised you actually figured it out. But monetary value has no importance whatsoever, why won't you realize that?! The only thing that matters is hiding my birth certificate!"

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Romney screamed. He focused the very last bit of passion he had left to possibly spare, and directed it toward his fist. He sprung forward at a nearly impossible speed and aimed toward Obama's sternum.

Obama attempted to dodge. He tried dodging with all of his will. However, this proved to be of no use, as he soon found a fist resting in his chest. The punch sent Obama rocketing away from Romney, and the force was so great, that he had explosively gone through three trees and Ferris Bueller.

Romney had stood there for a short while, still in a stagnant pose with his arm pointing outward as if he had been frozen while throwing a punch.

He had used the very last possible bit of monetary passion he had left. All ambition in his life was now completely gone, as he had no other ambitions to begin with. With nothing left to gain, or to lose, Romney dropped on the floor, and laid there, paying no mind to anything in the world, as it made no difference to him. Nothing had meaning anymore, he simply cared for _nothing. _So with all of his apathy alive and flourishing, Romney decided it would be best to spend the rest of his life laying there against the ground and simply started waiting for death to come.

Obama had awoken amongst the wreckage of several trees and the splattered remains of Ferris Bueller. His body had been aching from the blow to his sternum, but he had dealt with it and stood. His entire being still aching, he swept off the remnants of Ferris Bueller on his sports coat, and made his way back to Romney.

He had found Romney on the ground dead silent and completely motionless. For a moment he wondered if he had really died, but then corrected himself when he realized who he was dealing with. Mitt Romney could not die nearly as easily as that.

"Get up, you terrible bigot!" shouted Obama as he kicked Romney's side.

However, Romney did not move.

"Come on, you idiot of a man!" he yelled as he again kicked Romney.

Romney remained motionless.

Obama had relaxed his tense muscles. "I won't believe for a second that you've been beaten already, Romney. Since that head of yours certainly isn't filled with brains, I knew the rest must've been willpower. So now why do you lay here before me in a comatose-like state? Have you actually given up on your quest? Even with the untold riches that follow the mystical 'it'? Even after coming so far just to obtain the artifact? I don't believe so, Romney, and I refuse to believe so, until I killed you directly by my own hand!" Obama repeatedly kicked Romney hard until the side of Romney's blazer was covered in footprints.

Alas, he had given up, taken a dollar from his wallet, dropped it next to Romney and said, "You make me sick, Romney. Ever since I saw you had been nominated as a republican candidate back in 2008, I knew you'd be a thorn in my side. I'll admit, I didn't think you'd turn out to be such a weakling. But you know, It would've been nice if you had actually followed through and finished the job. Here's a dollar, thanks for the show, you dirty republican…" Obama said as he began to walk away from Romney.

Romney glanced at the money in front of his face. It took him a second to realize what exactly he was looking at. He moved his arm towards the bill, and touched it.

Suddenly, a surge of energy washed over him. He had a feeling like no other. It was like a thousand suns had gone and rushed up his pants, and he just had to move.

His passion for money had returned.

He shot up into the air, performed a complicated series of flips and landed with his legs crossed.

Obama turned around, and smiled at the sight of his rejuvenated nemesis. "And the fight goes on…" he said, and sprinted towards Romney. He leapt into the air and extended his leg towards Romney in a kick, but he was stopped dead in his tracks by Romney who had caught the foot with his bare hand. Romney casually threw Obama high into the air with what seemed like little effort on Romney's part. Romney leapt into the air after Obama and began rapidly punching him across his body. A counter appeared above Obama's head and began recording the number of punches laid on Obama. Romney's punches were a blur, as all of his appendages began whipping Obama as if they were Mom's spaghetti.

Once the counter had reached 1000, Romney ceased the whipping of his appendages, grabbed hold of Obama, and threw him toward the ground. Before Obama had the chance to slam into the earth, Romney teleported below him and delivered a jumping uppercut at his sternum, and began propelling himself upwards with Obama's sternum firmly attached to his fist. Romney then removed his fist from Obama's chest, and allowed him to fall freely toward the Earth. Obama had crashed into the ground explosively and left a large crater that enveloped most of the forest room. Romney soon followed, landing five or so feet away from Obama, and then struck a pose so manly, that he began to shine and the trees surrounding him started to melt. Obama, still conscious, was shocked and wide-eyed at the fact that Romney had managed to best him. Perhaps, he thought, maybe he really wasn't right for presidency. If he had allowed himself to be bested by an opponent of such lack of intelligence, maybe he shouldn't even continue to live.

So at that moment, Obama had slowly closed his eyes, and passed on. Energy from the souls he had sapped had escaped from his body and began rising up in an orangey mist back to their original vessels.

Everything was now as it should've been; except for a few things. For one, Romney had yet to collect his hard-earned prize, the fabled "it". He wondered for a moment where Obama might have hid the thing. But alas, he figured it out. He went to Obama's bedroom in the castle and checked under his bed. There "it" was, in a small golden box, sitting right next to his birth certificate and original draft of his Health Care plan.

Sweating profusely, Romney began slowly opening the golden box, beams of light shooting from the inside, peaking out through the cracks. He couldn't take it any longer. Romney didn't even want to savor the moment; he couldn't take the rivers of sweat pouring from his face.

He flipped open the box and studied the inside of it.

It was empty.

Romney had stood there for a very long while, smiling a malevolent smile at the fabled box. A note had fallen out within an indention in the box. Romney picked it up and it read, "The real riches lie not in petty golden boxes, but rather in yourself and your character."

Romney placed the golden box and the note down and smiled. He had understood the meaning of the proverb. He quickly gripped his own stomach, and began ripping it apart. As he did so, coins started to fall out of the wound. The coins became dollars, and has the wound got bigger, so did the amount of money coming out.

Romney had done it. He was now the richest man in the world. He had more money than possibly anything. He was quite literally, a money machine. He had no need for presidency, family life, or even a need to associate with others, for he was now the ultimate moneyman of the world.

So Mitt Romney became the richest man in the world, Obama had died, and now there were no presidential candidates, so the entirety of the United States became an anarchy, and soon, everything in the US began to look like it came out of Mad Max. The end.


End file.
